


Liquid Courage

by lone_lilly



Category: Castle
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-10
Updated: 2012-01-10
Packaged: 2017-10-29 07:58:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/317584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lone_lilly/pseuds/lone_lilly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castle and Beckett finish a conversation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Liquid Courage

  
**title:** Liquid Courage  
 **author:** [](http://lone-lilly.dreamwidth.org/profile)[**lone_lilly**](http://lone-lilly.dreamwidth.org/)  
 **fandom:** _Castle_  
 **pairing:** Castle/Beckett  
 **rating:** G  
 **word count:** 400  
 **spoilers:** post- 4x11  
 **summary:** Castle and Beckett finish a conversation.

The roof top reception smells like flowers, crisp and earthy in the cool air, and she's had just enough champagne that resting her head on Castle's shoulder while they dance seems like a decision she can take back later.

She's always loved weddings. Real weddings, not the elaborate shows of wealth and garishness that some couples subscribe to, but that intimate moment between two people in love when forever is the only option. Ryan and Jenny have that and she's so glad. She wants it too; she always has. In spite of everything, the tragedy of her mother's death, not to mention the parade of suspects and victims alike who wouldn't know the meaning of fidelity if their lives depended on it (and so often it has), she stills wants forever.

"So, how many are we talking?" Castle's voice interrupts the haze of her thoughts and she pulls back just enough to look at him, feels his hands shift on her back, keeping her close. He's warm; she doesn't mind.

"Four? Ten? Twenty?" The quirk of his mouth, the waggle of his brows clues her in. This again. Except he's obviously teasing her this time (his eyes are intense, but she sees none of that territorial caveman he showed her earlier), and she feels the corner of her own mouth slip northward even as she narrows her eyes at him.

"Or are we talking the Beckett 500?"

The way he holds himself absolutely still tells her he's waiting for her to hurt him. Pinch him, twist his ear. Shoot him. But he smells sort of like apples (why?), clean and wonderful, and the champagne has made her brave. So brave. "Would it matter?"

His entire face softens in a way that makes her shiver, any hint of a game between them dissolving into the quiet breath of a word, "No."

He's serious and she knows it. He loves her and there's nothing she can do or say that will change that. The realization of that should have hit her long before now. He's tried to tell her how many times?

 _Always_ , he's promised over and over. Sounds a lot like forever from where she's standing.

"Right answer, Castle." She grins and tucks her face against his shoulder again before he can respond, before she can rationalize putting space between them instead.

His head dips to hers, his arms tighten around her waist. She closes her eyes and they dance.  



End file.
